Chapter 19
After lunch, they sat down in Peter’s study to finalize their plans to catch Sir John in the act of trying to steal the otters.
Peter was relieved to see Georgie’s frightening passivity had faded away, but now he had to contend with the fact that his serene wife was not nearly as amenable to his plan for her to stay safely away from the action as he had thought she would be.
“No,” Georgie said. “Absolutely not. I will not put them in danger that way.”
Peter took her hands and gave them a little reassuring squeeze.
“I know it’s a frightening idea, but we will not be able to fool him without actually having the otters in the coop.
We will make sure to close them into the coop itself so he does not have an opportunity to take them before we can stop him, but they must be there. ”
Georgie sat silent for a long time before saying, “I must be present as well, then.”
“No!” Peter had not meant to be so vehement. “I cannot have both you and the otters in danger at the same time.”
“I will hide in the stable with the blunderbuss. I can even have one of the men with me for extra protection. But the otters trust me more than they do you, and they will come to me if anything goes wrong.”
Now it was Peter’s turn to be silent. Everything in him wanted to refuse her request, to lock her safely in their room until it was over, perhaps even send her back to Mrs. Clarke’s if she insisted on being intransigent.
But… she was right. He could not be certain the otters would come to him if he called them the same way they would go to Georgie. They likely would run to her even without her having to call them if they saw her.
He sighed heavily. “Very well.”
“I… ” She paused, clearly on the verge of continuing to argue with him. “Did you just agree with me?”
“Yes. I am not fond of the idea. I am terrified for your safety. But you are right. If something goes wrong, you will be able to protect the otters far better than I can.”
She blinked again, and then a slow smile spread across her face, taking his breath away. “What is the rest of the plan?”
Once he and Georgie had agreed on their strategy, Peter took himself off to the church for that afternoon’s board meeting.
If Sir John was watching the rectory, Peter would need to be seen carrying out his usual routine.
If Robby, the stablemaster’s son, was hanging about the place doing odd jobs in Peter’s absence, that could be seen as a coincidence and not additional protection for Georgie and the otters, all of whom remained indoors.
He rehearsed what he was going to say on his walk to the church.
He thought up and discarded flowery speeches.
His notions of appealing to chivalry were discarded as well.
Long, convoluted explanations would not do.
If they would not help him, he would need to know as soon as possible so the plan could be altered.
In the end, he chose simplicity. He marched into the room where the men on the board already awaited him and looked around before drawing a deep breath.
“Gentlemen… I—we—need your help.”
The group looked at each other around the table for only a moment before they turned to Peter as one.
“Of course, Lord Peter,” Mr. Kilvington boomed. “Tell us what you need.”
Georgie was in a dither the rest of the day.
She knew their plan was the best one possible in the circumstances, but she could not stop envisioning everything that could go wrong.
What if the watcher on duty fell asleep and the rest of them heard nothing until it was too late?
What if Sir John escaped tonight only to try again?
What if he brought a weapon with him and demanded Georgie choose between Peter and her otters?
It was unlikely he would kill anyone over her otters, but she could not be certain.
He was a desperate man, or so Peter’s solicitor had said in response to Peter’s inquiries.
Sir John had been deeply in debt even before he inherited her father’s properties, and his extravagance had only accelerated once he had his hands on her father’s income.
If he could not ransom the otters back to the Prince, there was no telling what else he might do.
She spent the afternoon pacing the bedroom and keeping the bored otters as entertained as she could before they could become destructive. After Peter left for his meeting, she had decided to bring the otters upstairs to make it more difficult for her cousin to break in and snatch them.
At last, she heard the front door open and the murmur of Peter’s voice as he spoke to Mrs. Barwick. She flung open the bedroom door and sped down the stairs, the otters romping in her wake. Peter turned and stretched his arms out to her, and she stopped before she could fling herself into them.
She could not fully relax until she was certain Sir John had been neutralized as a threat to her, the otters... and Peter.
Instead, she gave her hands to Peter. He raised them and kissed them one by one, leaving pleasurable tingles behind, from both his touch and his smile for her.
“It is all arranged. They will start arriving shortly after full dark.”
Mrs. Barwick cast a baleful eye at the otters, who chittered at her as they twined around Georgie’s ankles. “I suppose I ought to prepare some refreshments if we are to have an onslaught of visitors.”
“I can assist you, if you like, Mrs. Barwick,” Georgie offered. The older woman looked scandalized at the very thought.
“Certainly not, Lady Peter. Tha’ll have enough to do taking care of those animals.”
With this pronouncement, Mrs. Barwick swept off to the kitchens as Peter and Georgie giggled.
“Do you know,” Georgie said, “I believe she has become fond of the otters.”
“Never say so!” Peter replied with a grin. “She would deny it to her dying day.” He extended his arm to Georgie. “Come. We must prepare for a normal night at home and follow our usual routine. We must assume your cousin has been watching the house and will notice if we do anything differently.”
Georgie sighed. “I wish this was all over.”
Peter patted her hand where it curled around his forearm. “I know. But all should be well by this time tomorrow.”
Dolefully, Georgie nodded and allowed him to lead her into the drawing room, where the large French doors would show any observers that the otters were in the house.
Georgie pretended to read while Peter pretended to work. Neither of them made any progress.
As darkness fell, Peter led Georgie into the dining room for supper, keeping to their routine as they had agreed. Her hand was cold with nervousness under his. He longed to reassure her with kisses, but he could still feel the distance between them.
If he failed to protect her otters after all of the promises he had made to her, she would never trust him again. And he would never be able to forgive himself.
They ate in near-silence, Mrs. Barwick bringing in rounds of dishes that tempted neither of them.
After much discussion with the other gentlemen at the church, Peter had decided it was most likely the road from the village that was being watched by their villain, so when it came time to gather at the rectory, the board members came one-by-one from other directions a stranger would not know to watch: across the fields, around past the lane, or through the wold to the back of the rectory.
It was certainly possible Sir John would realize Peter had called in reinforcements, but Peter felt reasonably confident the other man was arrogant enough to think he could still steal the otters even if Peter had.
The men settled into Georgie’s art studio at the front of the house.
The curtains were drawn tight, but they only lit a few candles so as not to alert any watchers.
Mrs. Barwick bustled back and forth with light snacks and pots of coffee as they finalized their strategy.
Georgie sat in the corner with the otter basket on her lap, watching and listening.
A few glances were cast her way at the beginning, but the men seemed to quickly accept she ought to be included in the plan to protect her pets.
Robby crouched on the floor next to her…
or, rather, next to the basket of otters.
Peter suspected the otters had gained another protector.
“What time did you hear the sounds?” Mr. Coverdale asked.
“Just before dawn.” Peter frowned. “We do not want to count on him returning at the same time, however. We shall need to keep watch through the night.”
Peter and Georgie continued their evening routine for any unseen watchers until, at last, it was time to return the otters to the coop. He watched, concerned, as Georgie discreetly brushed tears from her eyes while shutting the protesting animals into their basket.
“Do you… do you want me to take them for you?”
“No,” she said, her jaw set. “I must do it myself.”
“Allow me to come with you, then.” Before she could protest, he went ahead of her into the kitchen and fetched a lantern from beside the back door, lighting the candle inside it with the banked kitchen fire before opening the door for her. After a slight hesitation, Georgie stepped outside.
Georgie had to admit, she felt better having Peter with her in the darkened garden. Surely her cousin would not dare to attack her with Peter at her side. As they walked, it was only natural for him to slip his arm around her waist, and for her to tilt her head close to his.
They reached the fenced yard of the coop, where Peter unlocked and opened the gate for her. Georgie opened the door to the coop itself and half-poured the basket of chittering otters through it, closing the door before they could slip back out. She latched the door and stepped back.
Peter put a comforting hand on the small of her back and leaned close. “Mr. Kilvington is already watching from the drawing room,” he murmured in her ear.
Georgie stiffened her spine. If they were to have any chance of justice, they must take this risk.
It was the only way.